Few air-to-air combat rivalries engender as much controversy as the contest between America’s F-22 Raptor and Europe’s Eurofighter Typhoon. Both planes are engineering marvels—national icons and products of decades of flying ingenuity. Choosing a definitive winner, however, is not easy. Each plane was designed with a different concept of air combat in mind, and that distinction determines how they operate when their survival is at stake.
The Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptor was conceived in the late 1990s as the best air-superiority fighter. Its every curve and contour was optimized for one purpose—stealth. It wasn’t designed to strut its stuff in the skies; it was designed to own them silently. The Raptor can supercruise—travel faster than sound without the use of afterburners—and its thrust-vectoring engines enable it to twist, climb, and dive with phenomenal accuracy. Add to that its sophisticated radar and sensor package, and the F-22 is not just a fighter plane—it’s a hunter that looks first, shoots first, and disappears before being spotted.
The Eurofighter Typhoon, on the other hand, embodies an entirely different design philosophy. Co-developed by a number of European countries and entering service in the early 2000s, it was designed to be agile and flexible. Its delta-canard design provides it with lightning-quick responsiveness, and its streamlined chassis provides it with high acceleration and better handling in tight turns. The Typhoon is not as stealthy as the Raptor, but its radar-absorbent paint and lower radar cross-section still make it more difficult to pick up on most fourth-generation aircraft. And with its P.I.R.A.T.E. infrared search and track system, it can detect heat signatures—an advantage that becomes useful against low-observable airframes.
In terms of performance, both have their advantages. The Raptor’s thrust-vectoring provides it with unparalleled maneuverability, but the lighter build and superior thrust-to-weight ratio of the Typhoon enable it to maintain energy longer in prolonged maneuvers—rendering it a deadly foe in close-range fights.
That disparity was evident during the 2012 Red Flag exercises in Alaska. German Typhoon pilots clashed with American F-22s in visual-range combat. As Maj. Marc Gruene, one of the German pilots, put it: there were times when the Typhoons did manage to turn inside the Raptors—but to the extent that allowed for the now-classic joke of “having Raptor salad for lunch.” Context is everything here, however. The Typhoons flew with minimum weight, no guns or external tanks, whereas the F-22s had additional fuel tanks that impaired their responsiveness. In actual combat, both planes would be differently equipped.
Reports on that same exercise similarly highlighted that F-22s scored several simulated kills, demonstrating how results in such exercises are highly dependent on setup, mission profiles, and engagement rules. Exercises have less to do with establishing dominance than with stretching boundaries and seeing how each aircraft operates in various conditions.
One thing learned from those experiences was that the Raptor’s thrust-vectoring, though potent, can hemorrhage energy if not applied judiciously. That’s where the Typhoon excels—it’s an “energy fighter” that specializes in maintaining speed and coming back at you after evading an attack. As one of the Eurofighter test pilots phrased it, if you live through the initial exchange, you’ve got a legitimate chance to come back around and hit your target again.
But air combat in the modern world scarcely ever becomes a close-range shootout anymore. Bases happen miles from visual range, and that’s where the F-22’s design philosophy really excels. Its stealth capabilities and strong radar allow it to see and strike before its opponents even know it exists. With AIM-120 AMRAAM missiles that are effective up to about 75 kilometers, the Raptor can take out targets long before a dogfight ever reaches a critical point.
The Typhoon’s IRST, however, can pick up subsonic planes more than 100 kilometers away under optimal conditions. Stealth planes like the F-22, however, are created specifically to avoid such detection techniques. Add that to the Raptor’s electronic warfare capabilities, and it’s a very difficult target to find. Its radar, which can track planes at more than 200 kilometers, means that the F-22 virtually always gets there first and shoots first.
Massive training exercises like Red Flag or Arctic Defender are invaluable for honing these skills. They’re not bragging rights stuff—they’re about tactics, teamwork, and preparedness. As U.S. Air Force Col. Kevin Jamieson explained, these exercises intend to train pilots for the most hazardous, unscripted missions possible—ones where teamwork and accuracy mean the difference between life and death.
Ultimately, the F-22 Raptor and the Eurofighter Typhoon each win in their own category. The Raptor’s still unrivaled stealth and distant-fighting abilities are matched by the Typhoon’s agility and versatility at close quarters. The moral is straightforward: air dominance isn’t a question of having one “best” fighter. It’s a matter of how effectively pilots and platforms cooperate to make the most of their capabilities and take advantage of an adversary’s vulnerabilities. In that respect, both jets demonstrate one eternal principle—air supremacy is not a function of the plane itself, but the plan behind it.